


So Sensitive

by LeafyGreenQueen773



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Peter Parker, First Time, M/M, Peter is eighteen, Peter's Senses Are Dialed To Eleven, Sexual Tension, Tony Stark-centric, Top Tony Stark, Virgin Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafyGreenQueen773/pseuds/LeafyGreenQueen773
Summary: Tony Stark is fifty but can still get women half his age.  He's insanely rich, and lives in an incredible apartment in Manhattan.  He's a freaking superhero.  But he still doesn't know what he wants.Except Peter.  He kind of really wants Peter.  And he's going to hell for it.  That is, if he can even figure out how to navigate Peter's first time when the kid's senses are off the charts.





	1. Thursday

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stipulations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771135) by Anonymous. 



> This is something I was working on during NaNoWriMo, but I finally decided I should try to post some of it.
> 
> Super-duper heavily inspired by the story Stipulations, which has a great scene in which Peter gets overwhelmed by Tony putting sensors on his body.

Tony Stark was very much going to hell.

It had really started on a Thursday night. Well, his birthday. His fiftieth birthday. Rhodey and Pepper had done the idiotic thing of surprising him with a lavish party at a fancy hotel ballroom in Manhattan, where the lights were low, the music was loud, and the cocktails were on the house (most likely courtesy of Stark Industries, but there was no question that they could afford it). Tony had told himself, upon walking into a room of three-hundred people shouting “surprise,” that he should just try to enjoy it. And, he did to a certain degree. That degree got a little bit greater as he pounded drink after drink, until about the seventh drink. Then it started to go downhill fast.

One thing he had always prided himself on was his stamina and vitality, and the fact that alcohol rarely got in his way. So when a young brunette thing in a navy body-con dress with sinful, wine-colored lipstick found her way to him, he found their way out onto the dance floor. Nobody thought twice about Tony Stark kissing up the neck of a good-looking lady while she arched her back against his half-hard cock, but about ten minutes in, he definitely felt sick. And not from the liquor.

It was surprisingly easy to slip out of his own birthday party, and surprisingly even easier to call a cab without getting recognized. The taxi driver didn't really speak much English, which was a blessing, and Tony blearily reached over the seat to tap in the address of a hotel across the street from his penthouse, instead of putting his real address into the GPS. Of course, he'd overlooked the fact that he didn't have any cash on him, so when they arrived, Tony slipped off his Gucci watch and handed it to the bewildered driver.

Then he was out on the street at eleven-thirty at night, waiting for the crosswalk signal, asking himself how he'd gotten here. Not in a physical sense, of course – he wasn't _that_ drunk. But in the philosophical sense.

How was he a fifty-year-old billionaire who still found himself dancing dirty with women half his age? How did he own the most successful tech company in the world and still feel like he hadn't found his path in life? And moreover, how did he feel like he wasn't doing _enough_ , despite being an actual, literal _superhero_?

A harried-looking, middle-aged woman on the sidewalk next to him suddenly let out a gasp. He turned, ready to ask her to please not shout out that Tony Stark himself was standing on the street, when an odd sound made him look up. Overhead, a dark shape was falling toward the ground, in a sort of graceful free-fall. Then, with another odd sound, which could only be described as a _thwip_ , the shape suddenly bent into a perfect pendulum, whooshing low over the cars in a flash of red and blue and black.

Peter.

The “walk” signal came on and the few people waiting with him jostled their way past Tony as he watched Peter disappear against the inky black sky. Jesus, here he was, teetering just short of drunk off his ass, and that kid was out there, patrolling so late on a school night. It made him want to throw on his own armor and go out and join him. But that would never happen, because he'd designed the suits to never let him take off if he was blowing more than a .05 BAC, and he was definitely over that now.

Still, he suddenly felt the urge to talk to the kid. He bounded across the street as the orange hand flashed and dug into his pocket for his phone the second he was safe on the opposite sidewalk. The doorman let him into his building, his Armani shoes clicked against the ornate tile floor as he crossed the lobby, and he punched the call button for his private elevator at the same time that he pulled up Peter's number on his phone.

And called it.

He was rising past the tenth floor when the call finally rang through to voicemail. So he disconnected and called again.

Finally, just as the doors were opening to his floor, Peter picked up the call.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark, I try not to pick up when I'm swinging.”

Oh. He hadn't really thought about that. “Shit. You safe somewhere now?” Tony opened the security panel outside his door and pressed his hand to it. The lock on the door clicked open.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm on a rooftop now. Enjoying the view.”

Tony could hear some background noise in the call, and a little bit of fuzz that suggested it was quite breezy wherever Peter was. The idea of Peter falling through the air, with only multi-million dollar spandex to protect him from splatting on the hard New York streets, made his stomach turn. He could taste vodka in his throat again. “Well, don't fall. That'd be bad.”

Tony switched on the lights and closed the door to his penthouse. Windows stretched all the way across his floor, showing off the brilliant skyline. He'd given up Avengers tower, which had been his home, when they decided to move upstate. That had been probably around three years ago. But he'd quickly decided that he needed a home base in Manhattan, too. So he'd grabbed up easily the most expensive real estate in New York City, converted one of the rooms into his personal lab, and brought the rest up to his standards for technology. Looking out over New York made him feel strangely happy, too. It didn't sit well with him to be so far away from the hustle and bustle of city life. The upstate facility had too much grass, too much clean air. And it was far away from Peter.

There was a noticeable pause on the other end of the line. “Don't take this the wrong way, Mr. Stark, but are you drunk?”

Tony flopped back in a leather chair before toeing off his Armani shoes. “Do I sound like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yeah, I am.”

Peter's quiet sigh on the other end of the line made Tony's chest feel tight. “Damn, I can't even drink yet. But I did turn eighteen, so I guess I could buy cigarettes or gamble or whatever. If any of that even remotely appealed to me.”

Holy fuck, the kid was eighteen already? Where did the time go? The last time Tony had checked, he was a geeky high school sophomore. Not that there was anything wrong with being geeky. In fact, Tony probably wouldn't have given Peter the time of day if the kid hadn't shown so much intellectual promise beyond his physical superpowers. But still, the realization that little Peter Parker was an adult now felt like a kick to the gut. The aftertaste of vodka came back strongly again. “Good for you. When I was your age, that stuff appealed to me quite a bit. Plus the drinking age was eighteen then. Fifteen, if you're me.”

“You drank at fifteen?”

“Yeah, a lot.”

Peter laughed a little, but the rushing sound of wind on his end drowned it out. “It's funny how we're so alike and yet so different.”

Tony swallowed. Then –

“So, why did you call me, Mr. Stark?”

“I.” His hand twitched slightly around the phone. He didn't really have a reason why he'd called Peter. It had just been an impulse, one he'd followed because his inhibitions were lowered by all the booze. But why had it been an impulse in the first place? Why had he called his protegee, when he could have been normal and called an ex-girlfriend from ten years past? “I have some suit updates for you,” he lied.

The wind had to be picking up hard on Peter's end, if the whistling on the phone was any indication. Or maybe Tony's ears were just ringing. “Oh, sweet! Should I come by this weekend?”

Fuck it. “Why not now?”

Peter paused again, and Tony felt his heart plummet. What the fuck was wrong with him? “Well, I've got class tomorrow.”

“Oh shit, right, you're still in school.”

“College, actually.”

Tony forced a laugh. “I'm fifty, kid. You being in high school or college barely seems different to me.” Except it did. Peter in high school versus Peter in college were two very, very different things, somehow. “But yeah, come by this weekend. We can make some tweaks in the lab.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“I'll be there. Thanks, Mr. Stark!” And then the line clicked off, and the whistling in his ear stopped. So it was the wind.

Tony lowered the phone from his ear. He had really, actually just called Peter Parker at 11:30 at night, on a whim, just to talk to him. And now he had to come up with some suit modifications, because he'd been too afraid to admit that there hadn't been a reason for calling the kid other than, what? Listening to his voice?

He'd always liked the kid for the fact that he was a mini-Tony, but ten million times better, somehow. Peter had put it exactly right when he'd said that they were alike, but different. Because Peter was the kind of good, innocent person that he'd never been. He became Spider-Man for the little guy, for some sense of responsibility to the world that Tony certainly hadn't felt for the majority of his younger years. And the fact that he was just as smart as Tony, albeit in perhaps a less-refined way, was just the cherry on top. He _respected_ the kid, that was all.

Except respect didn't generally give him the kind of feeling he'd had while grinding against the brunette on the dance floor. And there was no denying that he was kind of warm, in ways that he didn't want to think about.

Tony was still staring at his phone screen, seriously considering calling Peter again just to make sure he got home safely, when it lit up with a phone call from Pepper five minutes later.

“Pep.”

“Tony? Where the fuck did you go?”

 

 


	2. Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the part that's super-inspired by Stipulations. I could not get the scene of Tony putting sensors on Peter's body out of my head, because that sensitivity that Peter has is just phenomenal. Had to write my own version.
> 
> If you like it/love it/hate it/have critiques, please comment! The comments keep me writing.

 

It had started on Thursday with the phone call.

But Saturday was the real beast.

Tony had dropped all his projects on Friday to work on Peter's suit. He pulled up his holographic screen and sorted through project files until he came across one that he'd labeled “Underoos.” Jesus, had he really called Peter that as a weird, twisted kind of code name? And had the kid actually gone for it?

Of course, the next file over was the one that he'd done for Peter when he'd offered him the position with the Avengers. It was a behemoth project called the Iron Spider, which was an incredible piece of tech that he'd wanted to give to Peter the second he'd finished it. In fact, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty about how he'd been working on it in the wee hours of his weeknights, while simultaneously chastising Peter for all the reckless things the kid had been doing his sophomore year of high school. Even on the night of the whole Staten Island Ferry incident, he'd gone home and just tinkered away on it some more. Like he'd known that Peter would rise to the occasion and earn his suit back.

Tony's fingers hovered over the Iron Spider file. He could just give it to Peter finally, without the condition of becoming an Avenger. But it seemed like a big step up, something that was for a really special occasion, like a cataclysmic fight. Plus, he'd promised the kid upgrades, not a whole new suit. He swiped the Iron Spider file away and instead pulled up the Underoos file.

Damn, it was a genius design, now that he was looking back at it again.

Everything that had ever been wrong with his Iron Man suits, he'd tried to fix in Peter's suit. There was a parachute, which, to be fair, had its deployment flaws. But after a few tumbles himself, he knew that a parachute was crucial. And after what had happened to Rhodey in Germany, he felt validated in including it. There was no way he could ever watch another teammate go through something like that.

The suit also had a tracker, which he'd wished he'd had on more than one occasion. Of course, he'd found out the kid had disconnected it, after the Staten Island Ferry incident, and felt pretty stupid for not realizing it earlier, especially when he saw that the signal had showed Peter in a hotel in Washington, D.C. for several days. But when he'd returned the suit to Peter in a paper bag, he had added another discreet tracker that the kid would have a much harder time removing.

To be honest, Peter's suit had been a weird passion project, and he hadn't poured his soul into a design like that in a long time. There weren't a lot of upgrades to be made to it without getting into Iron Spider territory.

But surely it could use some maintenance, at least?

Maybe he could see what issues Peter had experienced over the last few years, get some new measurements, make sure all the minuscule instruments inside the suit were calibrated. After all, a smartphone could barely last three years without becoming outdated or breaking. He was sure Peter would have some feedback about the suit.

Still, he brainstormed new ideas for tweaks, and decided that some of his Iron Spider ideas could carry over into the spandex number. Some of the more intuitive processes, for example. Of course, he'd keep the same AI, since Peter had always seemed to like it well enough. He knew from experience that you could always update AI, but overhauling it entirely was like losing a friend, once you'd gotten to know it.

And that was how he stayed up all night Friday night, drinking espresso into the late hours of Saturday morning, until he got a text from Peter saying he'd be there in an hour.

It gave Tony enough time to hit the shower, scrub off the mechanic grime and sleep grubbies from around his eyes, and put on some fresh clothes. Peter had probably only ever seen him in person in a suit, but it was a Saturday. He wanted to wear jeans and a band T-shirt, and nobody was going to convince him to do otherwise. Not that anyone else was there to tell him off – Pepper and Rhodey were still pissed at him for ditching his own birthday party. Rhodey would come around first, then Pepper would probably be fine again by next weekend. But for now, he wasn't expecting anyone except Peter.

When the front desk called upstairs, asking about a kid who swore he was there to see the one and only Tony Stark, Tony personally went down to the lobby in his private elevator, not even taking the time to put on shoes or socks. He padded across the lobby again, to where Peter was standing, looking highly nervous, in jeans and a T-shirt, too. Tony felt a pull of affection as he turned to Veronica, one of the receptionists.

“This is Peter. He's always allowed up, okay? He's my intern.”

Veronica nodded rapidly, and Tony put his hand on Peter's shoulder to steer him towards the elevator.

It was only when the door closed that Peter finally seemed to take a breath.

“Okay, Mr. Stark, this place is like, really fancy.”

Tony's stomach twisted. He'd been in Peter's apartment before, and the first time he'd visited, it had been about as bare-bones as any apartment he'd ever seen. The kid had gone dumpster diving for technology, for crying out loud. It wasn't a secret that he and Aunt Hottie didn't make a lot of money.

“It's just an apartment, kiddo, don't worry. You living on your own yet?”

Peter shook his head, not looking at Tony. His brown hair flopped around adorably, and Tony had a flashback to when he'd first met Peter, with his hair slicked carefully down, parted in a straight line on the side. So cautious. So innocent.

“No, I'm still living with Aunt May. I don't really have the money for an apartment. It's not exactly easy to go to college, hold down a job, and be Spider-Man, you know?”

“Makes sense.”

The elevator door opened and Tony realized his hand was still on Peter's shoulder. He dropped it and led the kid to his apartment door, scanning his hand in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter's jaw drop slightly, but he quickly reined in his reaction when Tony turned to face him. “Put your hand on the sensor.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrow, but did so. A light passed over his palm, and Tony said loudly and clearly, “Create access key: Peter Benjamin Parker. Unrestricted access.”

The sensor beeped and turned green, while Peter's face turned red. “Am...am I just allowed up here, now?”

“Yep. I hate interacting with people when I don't have to. It's much easier for you to just be able to come up whenever you like.” Tony stepped aside to let Peter into the penthouse. He ignored Peter's second jaw drop at the sight of the interior and tugged lightly on Peter's backpack to signal that he should take it off. Peter didn't respond, just shrugged it off his shoulders. It was surprisingly heavy. Not that Peter couldn't take it, of course. But there had to be at least four textbooks in there.

Tony carefully lowered the backpack to the ground and started walking towards the lab, his bare feet feeling the cool floor as he went. “So what are you studying?”

Peter caught up behind him and followed Tony into the lab. “A lot of sciences. Chemistry, physics, environmental studies. But I am taking a photography class. And creative writing.”

The lights to the lab came on and Tony watched Peter's mouth open once more in utter awe. “Creative writing, hmm? Can I read any of it?”

Tony tried to ignore the prickling of his skin as Peter's face flushed again. “No way. It's...I'm so bad at it, really.”

“I'm sure you're not.”

Peter flushed a deeper red, and looked down at the floor. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps Peter didn't want to share his writing, not because it wasn't good, but because it was a little too personal. Maybe Peter was writing a memoir about being Spider-Man. Or maybe he was into fanfiction. Or maybe he wrote erotica. The last thought made Tony's skin prickle. He drew in a deep breath and decided to change the subject. “Well, if you want to get started, I've got the file pulled up. Let's take a look at it – I want to run over some things with you.”

Peter gratefully lowered himself into one of the chairs that Tony rarely used, sitting in front of the display. Tony joined him in a chair, brought the display closer, and starting pulling up the diagrams.

Talking tech with Peter was easy. And it wasn't necessarily surprising, because obviously the kid was brilliant. But it was the same sort of thing where he hadn't quite realized how well he'd get along with Bruce until they'd somehow earned the nickname “science bros” and were getting coffee until 5:00 AM, chatting and running over theories and forgetting that they were superheroes for a moment. Now, Tony could feel the energy in the room building up in a similar way, with both of them getting more and more animated as the time went by. Peter also asked the hard questions, and more than once he even brought up something that Tony hadn't thought about.

“See, that's why I knew I had to pick your brain, kid,” Tony pointed out after two hours of getting deep into the coding and design of the suit. “I've tried to get into the intricate details of suit technology with other people before, and they just don't get it. Rhodey stares at me like I'm on drugs. Which, to be fair, I probably was when we first met, but that's not the point.”

Peter laughed, folded his arms and kicked back in his chair until he was balanced on just the back two legs. The toe of one of his sneakers rested against the edge of the table, displaying the kid's balance and flexibility in full glory. Peter was wearing striped socks with cuffed jeans, and a sweater over a plaid shirt. The same style he'd had for years, back when he was fifteen. And yet, now that he looked, he could see that Peter was certainly not fifteen anymore. He had put on a little more muscle, though not enough to stop being slim and wiry; his jaw was perhaps even sharper than it had been before. And he'd stopped carefully combing and slicking his hair down, opting now for slightly longer locks that fell into his face adorably.

Tony looked away, feeling hot.

“Well, the next step is to recalibrate some of the systems. I'm guessing you've grown a little, so we'll want to get some full-body scans.”

Peter's chair thudded forward onto all four legs. The kid was looking at him, wide-eyed. “Um. Yeah, okay. Like...without clothes?” he said slowly, as though hoping Tony would say he'd been joking. Tony wasn't joking.

“Yeah, I know it's awkward, but your suit is really unique because it's probably the only wearable technology in the world that's quite so complex. I'd be pretty upset with myself if one of the functions isn't calibrated correctly and you end up misjudging a jump or something.”

“I mean, I don't think I'll – ”

Tony gave Peter a look. The kid pressed his lips together, staring Tony down for a moment before looking away, giving in. “Fine. But don't make any jokes or anything.” Peter stood and pushed his chair back before walking towards the corner of the room. He bent down, pulled off his shoes one by one, and tossed them into the corner. Tony felt his throat go dry.

“Yeah kid, I'm sure that I, a middle-aged dude with...what do they call it? 'Dad bod'? Is going to joke about you, a college freshman with superpowers and a physique to match.”

Peter scoffed, his voice quiet because he was halfway across the room. Tony watched him grab the collar of his sweater and pull it off over his head before he realized that he was staring. He turned away just in time; Peter looked over his shoulder and commented, “You do not have 'dad bod',” before returning to stripping.

Tony smirked a little at the floor as he stood to set up the laser scan. He secretly knew that he didn't have a dad body, but it was nice to hear from the kid, anyway. Even though it made him feel warm in a way that he shouldn't have felt warm. Behind him, he could hear Peter's zipper and the sound of jeans being shed. The thought tingled down Tony's spine, and he could feel his dick getting interested in his own jeans.

He blew out a breath and dialed up the power on the laser scanner. A holographic image of Peter's suit projected in front of the scanner, and little orange points popped up on the suit – places for specific sensor dots to go.

Christ. He'd forgotten that he'd need to stick the little dots on Peter's skin.

“Mr. Stark?”

Peter's voice was uncertain, nervous. Tony didn't dare turn around quite yet, not with the way he was working with the first stirrings of an erection. Instead, he pretended he was busy with the scanner. “Yeah, kid?”

“Am I...should I keep my boxers on?”

Motherfucker. “Whatever you're comfortable with.” Dear Jesus, if Peter walked over buck-naked, Tony was going to cream his jeans.

He heard Peter padding over, bare feet on the hard floor, just like Tony. For a moment, he tried to gather himself, then took a deep breath and turned around.

That was the moment that he realized that, no matter what else he did for the rest of his life, he was going to hell.

Peter was standing there, only in his boxers, which looked worn out like he'd had them for years. He had his arms folded over his chest, and the pose was unfairly showing his biceps, abs, and tense shoulder muscles all at once. If Tony needed a reminder that Peter wasn't exactly a kid anymore, it was right there in the way that even his body had grown up. A few dark hairs were visible at the top of his low-slung boxers. Other than that, Peter was still definitely a twink (although Tony instantly hated himself for even thinking that word) and had youthful mannerisms about him. He wasn't even meeting Tony's eyes, embarrassed about being almost naked.

“Cold?” Tony felt himself say, almost distantly.

Peter nodded, raising his head but looking into the middle-distance instead of at Tony. “Yeah, it's a bit cold in here.”

“We'll make this quick. I've just got to put these stickers on you. They'll help the scanner understand exactly what your proportions are so the suit can calibrate all its functions accordingly.”

“Mkay.”

Tony grabbed the sheet of orange dots, which were not so much stickers as almost like little Band-Aids, flexible and reusable. He had to put them in the right places, but he could see now that putting them on a living, breathing Peter was not as easy as he'd thought it was going to be. The sheet crinkled a little in his hands as he approached Peter, then, without saying much, got down on his knees.

Peter shivered in front of him. “What – what are you –?”

“Just putting these down here,” Tony said quickly, trying to cover up the way that his voice sounded thick. He peeled a dot off the sheet and held it above Peter's foot. It had to go in a specific spot, at the highest part of Peter's instep. With one hand, he gingerly touched Peter's skin, pressingly lightly to determine exactly where it should go. Peter's toes twitched at the touch.

“You okay?” Tony said distractedly, feeling his gut clench at the sight of Peter's toes contracting.

Peter breathed out shakily. “Yeah, yeah, I just – my um, senses. You know. They're pretty off the charts.”

Tony took his fingers off Peter's instep and looked up. God, the view from down here was a little overwhelming. Peter had gone from having his arms crossed to holding tightly to the waistband of his boxers, white-knuckled, eyes shut. “Is me touching you too much?” The sight of Peter swallowing, of his Adam's apple bobbing anxiously, made Tony want to touch him there, too. A second later, Peter shook his head, though he kept his eyes pressed tightly closed.

“No, no, I'm...I'm fine, Mr. Stark, keep going.”

Tony looked down at Peter's foot again. He didn't suppose that people generally had tan feet, but Peter's skin was so pale there – and all over his body – that it looked like he'd been inside for years. Every inch of him was smooth, too.

With his fingers, Tony found the top of the instep again and finally pressed the orange dot there. Now for the other foot.

It seemed like a monumental process. Thirty-two dots had to be placed on Peter's body in various positions, and he was starting to feel overwhelmed himself. Thought it could have been from the way that Peter's skin kept breaking out in goosebumps, the way that the kid shivered and jerked and shuddered when Tony pressed the dots to his skin.

After distributing six of the dots between his feet and knees, Tony got to his feet – his fifty-year-old joints creaking a little – and made his way around Peter's back. Ten dots had to spread out along the back of Peter's neck, down his spine, and on the back of his arms. Tony swallowed at the expanse of milky skin in front of him, smooth over the muscles tensed tight in Peter's back. “Can you relax a bit for me? You look like you're on edge.”

Peter took a deep breath (his whole back seemed to inhale accordingly, making Tony's mouth go even drier, if it was possible), and let it out slowly. God, Tony could actually _see_ Peter's muscles trying to loosen up. But they only seemed to loosen for a second, before Peter's tension rippled back up and into his shoulders.

Tony felt the request bubble up inside him before he could even think about shutting it down. “Mind if I help? I've worked a few hundred kinks out of Pepper's back. She says I have magic fingers.”

One of Peter's hands shot up from the waistband of his boxers and ran anxiously though his own hair before lowering back down to grip for dear life on the fabric. “Um. I. I guess?”

The paper containing the orange dots fluttered to the floor, utterly unimportant, as Tony carefully lifted his hands and placed them, one after the other, on Peter's back.

Tony was just a couple inches taller than Peter, but Peter was clearly hunching forward slightly, making him look a little smaller. As Tony allowed his fingers to brush over Peter's shoulders, the kid shuddered more, his head falling forward.

“You're doing great, Peter. Just tell me if it gets to be too much.”

“Yeah,” Peter breathed, shakily.

Tony licked his lips, tracing the lines of Peter's taut muscles under the skin. “I just want you to be comfortable, you know?” He found the place where he always used to start on Pepper, back when they were a little more than in a professional relationship. Peter's muscles were far more hardened than Pepper's had been, but he dug his thumbs in anyway, knowing that, at the very least, it would be pretty impossible to hurt Peter. “I bet you don't get a lot of time to just be a teenager these days. College can really take it out of you, and then you're Spider-Man on top of that.” Why did he sound so fucking...reverent? He could hear himself breathing loudly out of his nose, as if he was trying to exhale all of the heat that was pooling in his groin. “I mean, you're doing fantastic, all things considered.”

Tony's thumb found a hard knot, and he dug in, holding Peter's shoulder for leverage. He couldn't see Peter's face, but he could see a muscle twitch near his jaw. “You're so tight, though. I'm pretty sure I own a massage therapy center. Or at least I should. I could get you a free pass; you could go whenever you wanted.”

“N-No, that's...” Peter shook his head. “This is...”

He didn't finish, but Tony could guess what he meant. “Well, I've had some practice. Pepper wasn't quite as strung up as you are, and men are different anyway. But I've practiced on a few guys. Actually, it was my college boyfriend who taught me how to give good massages in the first place.”

“Boy—” Peter choked a little as Tony dug his knuckle into a particularly tense spot, but then swallowed and started again. “Boyfriend?”

God, what was Tony saying? Most of his close friends knew that Tony swung both ways, but he didn't need to be so personal with Peter. At least he didn't need to confess that he'd had a few NSFW relationships throughout his college years, where he'd been experimenting so hard that he'd almost forgotten what a vanilla relationship could even be like. Tony swallowed. He should try to play it casually. “Well, you know, same-sex stuff wasn't quite as accepted thirty years ago when I was in college, so I guess I use the term 'boyfriend' in the liberal sense. But we spent a lot of time together, you know, and we...” Tony broke off for a moment, before clearing his throat and continuing on, “...had some fun. Back then we used to wear little symbols that we were open to that kind of thing. Having one ear pierced, you know. Cuffing our jeans.”

Peter raised his hand again to pinch the bridge of his nose, and Tony suddenly remembered that Peter cuffed his jeans. Did it mean the same thing now that it meant then? “I mean, not that people can't cuff their jeans for style exclusively—”

The shoulders under his hands hunched. “Ah, sorry, Mr. Stark, could you...could you stop?”

Fuck. He'd gone too far.

“Yeah, of course, kid.” Tony pulled his hands away from Peter's skin reluctantly, surprised to feel the skin of his palms tingling.

Peter was shivering. “No, not...y-you can keep touching me, I just...” He took in a deep breath. “I mean, can we...can we change the subject?”

The relief that came flooding into Tony's chest made him a little sick. Yes. Yes, he'd do anything if he could just keep touching Peter's body.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Tony pressed his hands into Peter's back again, trying to hide the fact that he was almost shaking. “What do you want to talk about, Pete?”

Peter's voice sounded almost breathless in his response. “I don't know, I just...” He forced air out of his nose. “Look, it's not even that the topic was bad, I just felt...”

Tony's fingers slid over the tops of Peter's shoulders and to the kid's collarbone, prominently sticking out, and pressed into the tops of Peter's pectoral muscles. It was a technique that Pepper had actually mentioned to him once, and he'd always done it for her. Of course, he was used to pressing into soft breasts, not into the hardened muscle of an eighteen-year-old superhero. He could feel Peter's heartbeat jumping in his chest.

Peter swallowed audibly. “You should probably know,” he started, voice quiet, “that I'm...I'm bisexual, Mr. Stark.”

Jesus fucking Christ. All the air went out of Tony's lungs for a second.

Fuck, he had so many questions. How long had Peter known that he liked guys, too? Did he have any crushes? Had he ever hooked up with someone?

All of these questions were highly inappropriate, of course, so Tony simply swallowed, pulled in a little deeper breath than he'd meant to, and kept working Peter's muscles, saying, “Hey, you don't have to worry about telling any of us, kid, we all are a pretty liberal bunch – ”

“And, um,” Peter continued, his voice wavering, but clearly determined to say something before he chickened out. “I _totally_ used to have a crush on you. As a...as a kid, I mean.”

Peter had to stop dropping truth bombs or Tony was going to lose his damn mind. His hands faltered for a second, just holding Peter's shoulders as he stood there, trying to absorb all of the new information. Peter had liked him? Even as a kid, Peter had had a crush on a man thirty years his senior?

“'Used to'?” Tony joked, though it sounded forced. “I'm flattered. What changed?” As soon as he asked, he regretted it. There was probably nothing in the world he less wanted to know than why Peter Parker had stopped crushing on him.

“I met you.”

“Ouch.”

Peter dropped his chin to his chest, and took in a long breath. “And I stopped having a crush on you because I...I fell in love with you instead.”

The little amount of control that Tony had been working with seemed to short-circuit in his brain. His hands were white-knuckled on Peter's shoulders. “Peter, I'm going to tell you something very important.”

The kid was trembling under Tony's fingertips. “What?” he breathed, so, so quietly.

“If you want me to stop, you better fucking tell me.”

And Tony bent down and pressed his lips into the hot skin on the side of Peter's neck.

Peter went stock-still in front of him, but Tony wasn't deterred. He opened his mouth slightly, letting his tongue dart out and taste the smooth, salty skin that he'd been so desperate to get his hands on. Before he could contain himself, he hummed against Peter's neck, very aware that his dick was quickly stiffening in his jeans.

In Peter's throat, a whimper cut through his breathing. His head fell to the side, though not quite in a submissive way – more like he just couldn't support it anymore. Tony took it as a warning, snaking his arm under Peter's and splaying his hand out on the kid's chest just as Peter seemed to become boneless in his grip. A breathy, ruined groan tumbled out of him – Peter? – both of them? – as Tony let Peter lean back against him and his ass pressed hard into Tony's cock.

“M-Mr. Stark,” Peter gasped as Tony held him, his mouth still buried in Peter's neck. His voice sounded higher than he'd ever heard it before, desperate, and the sound, combined with the pressure on the front of his pants, made Tony's dick leak with precum. “D-Don't stop, please, don't stop...don't stop...”

“Never,” Tony growled, feeling wild, feeling almost feral, as he moved his mouth and bit down on Peter's shoulder, hard.

Peter choked on his breath and jerked in front of Tony, bouncing backward against his cock. Other than these involuntary responses, Peter had basically collapsed against him, though he was so compact that it wasn't hard to take his weight. When Tony opened his eyes, he could see down the line of Peter's front, down all the ridges of his muscles, the goosebumps on his jumping abs, and...fuck. He'd expected it, but it was still so satisfying to see the tent in Peter's boxers and the dark spot where he was precumming against the fabric. With the hand not supporting Peter's chest, Tony trailed his fingers, rough and calloused with years of work, down the soft, innocent, immaculate skin of Peter's torso. As he went, he felt each muscle under his hand tighten up, like he was dragging a line of tension through Peter's body.

Tony turned his head towards Peter to murmur into his ear. “This okay?”

He was a little surprised to see Peter's face had gone pale. He was biting his lip with such force that the skin under his teeth was pure white, and his eyes were pressed shut. It didn't look like the pleasure-discomfort that he'd seen countless times in the bedroom. Tony pulled his head back slightly, stopping his descending hand in its tracks. “Hey, you okay?” he repeated.

Peter opened his eyes with some difficulty, then exhaled sharply through his nose.

“I just – it's really...” Peter slowly took his own weight again, and Tony uncaged his arms reluctantly, letting the teenager step forward out of his space. He felt strangely cold without the warm, weak plane of Peter's body against his front. Now that Peter was facing him, he could see exactly what his actions had done. Peter himself was staring down at his own body, as though surprised to see it so responsive. “I'm just really. Sensitive. It's a little overwhelming.”

“Dialed to eleven?” Tony offered.

Peter stared, as though he couldn't believe Tony had remembered his exact words from three years ago in his bedroom, when they first met. “Feels like fifty right now,” he breathed.

It was impossible not to feel guilty that he'd caused Peter discomfort, but at the same time, the idea that the kid's body was so susceptible to touch, to his ministrations.... It definitely didn't stop his cock from throbbing. “Do you want me to do something different? How do you normally make out with someone so it's not too much?”

It probably should have been a red flag that Peter always came across so innocent; or at least Tony should have put two-and-two together when thinking about how little time Peter probably had for a relationship. But he'd thought that at least the kid had messed around before, once or twice if not hundreds of times, since Tony couldn't imagine any college freshman being able to resist the human embodiment of perfection that was standing in front of him.

Peter's cheeks colored and he looked away.

“Peter.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Peter spoke, still not meeting Tony's eyes. “I've never made out with someone.”

“Christ. Haven't you ever wanted to?”

Peter raised a hand in Tony's general direction. “Obviously.”

Okay, new approach. “Let me ask you this,” Tony said gently. “Do you want to keep going? Because I would love to. I would love to make love to you for hours, honestly.” Peter's mouth gaped open. “But only if you're comfortable giving it another shot.”

“I – yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Please.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, they're probably definitely going to f*ck in the next chapter.


End file.
